


Climb On Top Of Me

by slyyywriting



Series: Get Under Me [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bathroom Sex, F/M, Finger Fucking, Modern AU, Smut, Vaginal Penetration, blowjob, finger banging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyyywriting/pseuds/slyyywriting
Summary: One way of bouncing back when somebody brings you down is to climb on top of somebody else.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Get Under Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019121
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	Climb On Top Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel of to Get Under Me. I am a simp for Steve here I just want him to dicc me down deer gawd. Enjoy and don't forget to leave feedback!

This was a disaster. You think your jaw might start locking up on you if you had to keep clenching it. But you didn’t have a choice. Every single time you think about your little run-in with your best-friend-who-you-used-to-fuck-on-the-down-low’s conniving little fiancé, you can’t help but ball your hands into fists.

You were itching to tell Bucky about how his soon to be wife was only in it for the money and rich people privileges, then they’d probably, most likely break up then he’d be back in your arms in no time just like how it was originally supposed to be. On the other hand, you were beginning to think that maybe you and Bucky were already a thing of the past long overdue to be left alone. Maybe Bucky deserved to have his heart broken just like yours.

You chuckle to yourself.

Damn Steve and his working plan. Weeks ago you wouldn’t have even had second thoughts to claw someone’s eyes out if it meant you were protecting Bucky. Then Steve—good old, golden, gracious Steve—showed you how life manages to move on when you choose to actively participate in it.

That’s why your jaw was aching. You were keeping things from him. Withdrawing into a self made prison in your head to avoid hurting him the way you were hurting, the way you were hurt. So when Steve notices you battling something internal, he asks for a piece of your mind, a part of your burden he’s willing to carry with you.

How do you tell him it’s about Bucky without making it sound like you cared more for the other person that you did for him? You can’t—so you don’t. But the need to be honest with Steve outweighs your pride so you swallow it down, among other things.

Steve is a moaning mess in the back of a Rolls Royce. Both of you had just been at some charity event hosted by the Barnes’s where he observed you in complete discomfort the whole time. More when everyone was gushing about how Bucky and his fiancé Dolores were completely perfect for each other. A wave of nausea fleeted on and off throughout the night at the lie sitting on your tongue, a mere feet away from being disclosed to the proper ear. So when Steve Rogers asked to take you home, you agreed in a heartbeat.

At first he thought that even after all the time you spent with him, between sheets or otherwise, you were still not over his best friend. So when you reached down into his pants and pushed him inside your mouth his mind clouds in the warmth of your lips, worries temporarily replaced by bliss.

“Baby, y-you don’t have to.” He pleads weakly. He wants this. He wants you on top of him, all over him, making him feel like he’s the one you crave now.

He gulps down his words when your soft lips reach his pelvis as you take him whole down your throat. Your eyes are on him the entire time as tears run down your made up face, beat to perfection for the glamorous evening. Mascara was starting to run the more you take him, yet he has never seen you more beautiful like this.

Your head bobs up and down just below the view of the window, a couple of feet away from New York pedestrians milling about in the sidewalk and the ongoing traffic. The partition was rolled up the moment your hand landed on his lap.

Steve’s mind floats away only to be brought back to the ground by the scraping of your nails on his thigh. Every now and again he hears you choke on him and his chest heaves with pride. You withdraw from him and replace your mouth with a hand as a line of spit hangs from your bottom lip to the tip of his pulsating cock. Your face is puffy from working on him.

“ _Fuck!_ Look at you.” He curses out as he swipes your swollen lips with his thumb. You were a wreck but he loved you like this—all his. You take a hold of his wrist with your free hand and scatter kisses all over it before taking his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it only to release it with a pop then returning to his cock.

This time Steve thinks his eyes might roll all the way to the back of his head. He leans on the leather seat, biting down his lip as he tries to maintain a semblance of control. He was so close to his release and no amount of noise outside the car doors were going to distract him from the velvet of your feel.

Just as you’re giving him half-way sucks and little swirls of your tongue on the head of his cock, his hips stutter and he blows his load inside your mouth. You milk him dry and continue to lick the tip even after he’s going soft in your hands. When you’re sure that no secrets will spill from your mouth now, you tuck him back into his pants and zip him up, returning to your seat beside him the rest of the ride home. Steve was basking in the afterglow; you were drowning in another unhealthy coping skill.

And so the countdown to the wedding closes in like a haze that looms over everyone’s head. Steve was actively trying to steer you clear from the constant photographs, gossip articles, blurbs and even tweets that remotely mentioned the high society wedding of the eldest heir to Barnes’ fortune. He’s responding to your text about missing dinner arrangements last minute due to work when a magazine lands on his office desk surprising him.

“You’ve been too busy to respond to my calls I’m starting to think _you’re_ the one who’s planning a wedding.” Bucky smirks as he flops down on the seat across the table.

“What—“ Steve picks up the magazine as Bucky points at it. It’s opened on a spread with photos of you and Steve in various events and locations all around Brooklyn and Manhattan. The tiny paragraph on the side catches his attention, “as the buzz around their best friend’s wedding, the one and only Bucky Barnes…”

“That’s me, in case the two of yous forgot.” The namesake raises two fingers to make his presence more known; smiling, playful.

“…increases in trajectory, it seems like they’ve developed a side quest for a love story of their own. Often seen alone together in private dinners and surreptitious rendezvous, another wedding might take place with these two.” Steve finishes reading and tosses the magazine back near Bucky. He sighs and leans back on his leather chair, crossing his arms in the process.

“So?” he huffs at the brunette; a loaded question.

“What da’you mean ‘ _so_ ’? When did this happen and when were you guys goin’ to tell me, hah?” This time it’s Bucky who crosses his arms, face still etched with a semblance of a smirk. Still, still playful.

“There’s nothin’ to tell, Buck. We’ve been hangin’ out without you even before there were pictures like this. It’s her and it’s me—deal with it.” Steve knows that he sounds… defensive. He couldn’t help it. By now it was too late for his friend to be asking all these questions. He wasn’t around and there was slack to be picked up hastily. “You ain’t gotta concern yourself about it.”

That makes Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. It was unexpected coming from Steve and it sounded borderline hostile.

“Look, pal. I’m not trying to tell you anythin’ here, okay? Relax.” He chuckles. He knows there’s something going on if Steve is getting agitated like this. But then again, this is you they’re talking about. He remembers a time when he would’ve beaten someone, anyone who looked your way. “Anyways, I’m just dropping these off. Personal delivery because the Missus said family deserved a personal touch.”

Bucky places two lavender wedding invite boxes on the table. Opulent and ostentatious, just like the two families about to be joined by marriage. If you were here you would tell it straight up—it was tacky.

“Don’t be surprised if we skip the stag party and go right to the rehearsal dinner. Dot said I’d been a bachelor too long, a stag party would be redundant.” Bucky gets up to leave and Steve follows suit.

“And she’s right. We’re too old for bachelor parties. Everyone else we know are married, it’d be weird to invite a bunch of dads to a strip club.” Steve jokes and moves in to hug his friend.

Bucky was halfway out the door and Steve was about to sit back when the next words slap him right up the head, he sees red for the first time in a long while.

“Hey. Just—just take care of her. She’s precious to me—more than you know. Shit, more than _she_ knows.”

“You broke her heart, y’know.”

The words were out before Steve could stop himself. Hands wound in a tight fist in both his sides, he stands tall, looking bigger than his usual self.

“You could have told her straightforward that there was no future for the two of you instead of running away then coming back with someone new. You didn’t even tell her why she didn’t stand a chance and taunted her pain with that engagement ring you promised was going to be on her finger now being paraded by some girl you met in a drunken excursion in Greece.”

Steve’s shaking and his ears are hot. He meant every word he said but he didn’t mean for them to spill right at this moment. He snaps back temporarily into sanity and looks back at Bucky who was wistfully smiling at him.

“You love her pal.” Bucky confirms. It wasn’t a question thrown at Steve. It was a complete sentence.

“I- I do. So much.” Finally, the confession is out there in the world even if it’s not to the person who he intended to say it to, hears it. “More than anything and its terrifying as fuck because she’s in love with somebody else.”

Another pensive grin blooms from Bucky’s face. He places both hands in his pocket and tells Steve something he hasn’t said aloud before, even to himself.

“I—I left because I knew I could never love her back the way she loves me. And that I can never love her the way you could, the way you have. I didn’t stand a chance so I had to take myself out of the picture.” And with that Bucky leaves Steve simmering in thoughts that had you in the center of it.

The view on your couch wasn’t what you were expecting when you get home at nearly midnight but it was still entirely welcome. Steve was lounging in a sleep shirt and those gray sweatpants you kept around the house for him when he slept over. These days he was over at your place more than his own, that your bed was starting to smell like him.

You remove your heels and coat and jump on top of his lap, breaking the scowl he was giving his phone.

“Hey, you.” You greet him with a long kiss, adjusting yourself into straddling him. He greets you back when the kiss breaks and you pepper more smooches all over his face. “What’re you doing here and why are you still up?”

“I was disassociating on the drive back after work I just hummed a yes to my driver when he asked if I wanted to be dropped here.” Steve looks up at you from under his lashes, encircling his arms around your waist. “By the time I realized, I was already inside taking my shoes off.”

You giggle at his story, brushing back his hair with your fingers and massaging his scalp gently in the process. Steve’s lashes flutter and closes his eyes at the tingling sensation your nails send right into his spine. Goosebumps form from his neck to his arms and he shivers lightly.

“And I’m up because it’s weird to sleep in your bed without you.” He adds in a whisper, head swirling with the feeling of you on his skin. You make him drunk and he doesn’t know how to make himself sober.

You raise an eyebrow at his statement. You both know he could’ve just slept on the couch and called it a day. The sentiment doesn’t escape you so you think of a reward for this little gesture.

“That so?” you place a kiss on the underside of his jaw, tongue darting out to tickle the spot. “Since I’m here now…” a nibble to his earlobe which elicits a low groan from Steve. “You can go to sleep.”

You continue to the other side of his face, making a path from his jaw line to his throat. He smelled like your soap and that aftershave you stole from his apartment now taking residence on your bathroom shelf.

“I’m not sleepy yet.” He responds, hands crawling to cup your ass and squeezing them. He smirks when you start to grind yourself on his thigh, the pressure starting to build in his loins as your core spreads warmth on him.

You ride his thigh while you give him an open mouth kiss, tongues lashing against one another. The room is filled with the mixture of your moans being swallowed and the sloppy wet sounds of your mouths that only fuel the lust that’s building higher with each roll of your hips.

Steve’s patience was wearing thin so he reaches down between your legs and slips his hand to your flooded cunt, slick with your juices induced by his lips and touches. He uses two fingers, long and hard against your velvet softness to distribute your wetness around before slipping them inside. You release a moan, the wind almost getting knocked out of your lungs when he does but you carry on and push yourself against him deeper.

“Steve, please. Make me cum, baby.” You plead, head thrown back at the delicious sensation. Steve complies, pressing and circling his thumb on your clit while attacking that junction between your jaw and neck with a suckle. The image of you and him still fully clothed on your couch in the middle of the night while he finger bangs you sends an excitement into your spine.

“Relax, baby. Let Stevie take care of you.” He encourages you when you try to grind down harder on his hand. He looks up at your face, eyes closed in complete ecstasy, and he thinks you’re gorgeous as your day washes away to be forgotten in his hands. He pulls out his two fingers only to add another, this time you grab the back of his head and bite on his shoulder.

“There you go, honey. Give in. I’m right here, I got you.” He assures you, unrelenting with his fingers until you clench around him, squirming under his touch. You let out a long string of curses and muffled moans into his skin as your release takes over you. When you recover from coming undone you lift your head and give him another kiss. His thumb was still rubbing your sensitive bud making you whimper.

“Mmm, no more Stevie, please. I’m about to pass out.” You beg him, energy depleted by your day and his magical fingers. He takes pity on you and removes his hand from your panties, making a show of sucking his fingers clean off your juices before helping you on your feet and into the bedroom.

An hour later after the both of you were in bed and you’re sleeping next to him peacefully, face smushed into your pillow, Steve couldn’t help but feel hopeful that maybe someday you’d be able to love him in his rawest form when his guards are down and his own vulnerability won’t be used as a weapon against him. He hopes that one day you would hold him in your heart without him having to squeeze himself in for space. Someday when all your wounds heal, maybe you’ll be able to accept that your love can make him move mountains.

He takes your hand lying on his chest and kisses each finger tip gently and whispers into the night—

“Please let it be enough that I love you…”

He stirs awake in the morning when a gentle hand shakes his shoulder. He peeks one eye open and sees light coming in through the windows as your silhouetted figure pulls the curtains open. Steve stretches his arms above his head and groans the sleep away. He was always the one who was up first, maybe it’s not his day today.

You kneel on the carpeted floor beside the bed and call his name so gently from your lips he almost melts.

“Wake up, sleepy face. I got you coffee.” You tell him and he rolls to his side to accept the mug in your hand. He mumbles a thanks, blows on the mug and takes a sip. “…Steve? We need to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s fully awake and sits up on the headboard. His stomach is in knots as you sit in front of him now cross-legged. You must have woken up earlier than expected because your face was already washed and you were wearing your morning prep robes.

“I have to tell you something. It’s important that you listen to me first before you say anything back, okay?” It was rare for you to plead like this so he nods and gulps down any thought he had at the moment. You take a long breath and continue.

“Dot doesn’t love Bucky.” You reveal to Steve your news, voice almost shaking as if you couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “She doesn’t love him. She’s only marrying him for the money and the social bump up. Bucky deserves to know the truth about her, Steve.”

That was unexpected, Steve thought. He was almost sure that you were about to tell him that the arrangement was off because you were still pretty much in love with Bucky and you were stopping the wedding from happening.

“That’s why we should stop whatever this is that we have going on between us. We have to stop Bucky from getting married to Dot.”

 _Fuck._ He spoke too soon. Steve stutters and reaches out for your hand but you pull back before he could touch you.

“I- I have to save him Steve. I have to do something—“

“Why does it have to be you?” he cuts you off, anger and disappointment bubbling in his chest. “Why do you have to be the _one, specifically_ to always save his ass?”

“Because I—“

“—you can’t still possibly be in love with him after all this time! He hurt you! And left you!” Steve’s voice is gradually increasing in volume but he doesn’t hear himself. His mind is shrouded by a mist of jealousy that he can’t help but get lost in.

“Stevie…” this time it’s you who reaches out to touch him and it’s him to retracts. You can see the storm of emotions in his head on his face and your heart actually aches for him. You have to tell him that what he’s thinking probably isn’t true. “It’s not—“

“I’ve been here for you—All this time and you still want him despite of everything? He doesn’t _love_ you!”

 _Not like I do._ He wanted to add but he doesn’t. Instead he’s standing in front of you, naked and heaving in anger and disappointment but most of all he’s slipping in that slimy jealousy.

His last statement startles you. But Steve startles himself more. He didn’t intend to say it but the mist in his head is winning. So before he causes you anymore hurt he gathers his things from your dresser and walks out the room. Steve’s words are echoing in your head but he had it all wrong. You love Bucky, that could never change but you weren’t _in love_ with him, not anymore. Steve should’ve heeded your warning to listen to everything you had to say before storming out and leaving you by yourself in a now empty house.

—

You needed a stiffer drink to survive this night. The rehearsal dinner is finally upon you, an inevitable event despite the presence of ulterior motives from one of the wedding parties. You’d think you’re going to be sick as you watch Bucky and Dot take photos for various magazines and websites, flaunting the last night of their single lives. Not to mention the added burden of having to answer dumbass questions from your families who are collectively strolling all over the dining hall.

“Darling, there you are!” _Shit._ Sarah Rogers approaches you with a gloved hand extended out to grasp your elbow, ushering you from your safe corner into the middle of the socializations. “The New York Times would like to take a photo of you for the wedding spread. Don’t let that custom Ralph & Russo gown go to waste, dear.”

She nudges you forward and almost onto the lifestyle journalist covering the high society wedding. You shake their hand and thank them for taking time and effort into writing this up. You spew more polite bullshit with a smile and you’re directed to pose for the photographer. A couple of bright and dizzying flashes later you’re pulled back into another circle.

You’re surrounded by married-to-old-money women suddenly, courtesy of your best friend turned fuck buddy and now maybe ex-friend’s mother. Mrs. Rogers was gushing to them about your recent achievements and the contents of your closet but you weren’t really listening. You were still shaken up by Bucky’s decision to carry on with the wedding despite your big reveal days ago that completely flopped.

 _I know she loves me for the money and the status. But she_ loves _me, still that counts for something._

The moment he responded with those words, you felt like a reverse card was slapped across your face. It was unexpected and totally out of character for him to accept things the way they were. And for what, an allusion to love?

_I’m happy with the way things are. Dot’s more than happy with how things are. Shit, even my parents couldn’t be happier and prouder of me. It’s my decision and I’m sticking to it._

Why? You ask him and he just shrugs, places a kiss on your forehead before leaving. To make matters worse, it was even more uncharacteristic of you not to follow him and yelling up a storm to snap him out of it. You accepted his decision despite the grueling consequences that may come after.

You’re shaken out of your inner turmoil when your name gets called, asking for pardon when you didn’t catch the question.

“Have you seen my Stevie, darling girl? I know you’re not attached to the hip but I was hoping that you’d attend together, at least. Or is he out and about with his weekly fling?” Mrs. Rogers blinks at you with her heavy lashes and eyes that she gifted to Steve. She knew of her son’s indecencies but such was the life of being the sole heir to the Rogers’ fortune.

“Uhh—No, ma’am. I’m sure he’s around here—“ Of course you’re not going to reveal to her that you haven’t seen nor heard from his son since he walked out of your apartment in anger weeks ago. As you scan out the venue for the blonde heap his mom was looking for, you spot Steve across the room being flirted on by what it seemed to be the bridesmaids. “—oh, look, I found him! I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, Aunt Sarah.”

With another polite smile and an even politer farewell, you excuse yourself out of the circle and head over to Steve who upon nearer inspection looked like he was wasted out of his mind. His clothes were in slight disarray and he was laughing way too loud, almost like a male turkey wanting to be noticed.

“Stevie!” you call out to him, almost a hiss when you observe the girls were practically pressing themselves onto his body.

“Heyyy—here’s Bucky’s other best _man_!” he releases himself from the other women and wraps you in a bone crushing hug. He smelled of day-old alcohol smothered in cologne and you can just tell how long he’s been drinking even before he arrived for the night.

“I have to borrow you. The mothers’ club is looking for you.” You tell him as you pull away from the embrace but he only keeps you at arm’s length, not completely detaching. “Can you sober up please, so you can perform your duties as best friend to the groom?”

Steve chortles and places you in front of him, your back to his chest and arms encircling your middle. He turns and faces the bridesmaids again with a smug grin.

“My duties as best friend to the groom are right here.” He points to the women and they all giggle haughtily, the vapid harlots. “Now, as _my_ best friend, _you_ have to help me perform my duties.”

Jesus—Steve is off the rails. He really just proposed you join the orgy that he was planning on having. You pinch his hand on you and untangle yourself from him, only to confront him face to face. You slip your hands on the back of his neck and pull him down to your eye level.

“I think it would be more fun just you and me, right?” you counter propose, voice heady and insinuating. You bite your lip as you stare directly into his glassy eyes and he nods automatically in agreement. “Yeah? You’d like that won’t you?”

Steve leans in, like he was in a hypnotic trance, eyes on your luscious lips which he terribly missed. But as soon as he was a mere hair’s width away, you pull back and excuse yourself from the gaping audience, dragging him towards the lavatory.

Once inside, you instruct him to sit on the sink and behave himself. You duck outside and instruct a server to bring you a bottle of water and a towel, taking them back to Steve who was sitting in a daze.

“Drink!” you instruct him and he complies despite giving you his signature puppy-dog eyes. You run the towel under the faucet and wring it out. You take away the almost empty bottle from Steve and start wiping his face and neck with the towel. “Sober up or Sarah Rogers will give you a beat down in front of all our relatives and friends.”

Steve sighs and slumps over as you run the wet cloth over his skin. Contrary to what you think, he wasn’t really _that_ drunk. He just wanted to act out like a petulant child in need of desperate attention and affection. He catches your wrist effectively stopping your hand from continuing.

“I’m guessing that your mission to save Bucky didn’t turn out as planned…” he exhales, shifting his eyes from your hand to your face. “…so you need me to comfort you again, is that it? That’s why you’re doing this.”

You scowl at him, offended by what he’d just said. You snap your hand away and take a step backwards, creating a distance between you and him.

“Why can’t you just let him go?” he asks again, this time leaning on the mirror behind him, closing his eyes. The hurt on your face was too much for his weakening resolve.

“Why can’t you?” your response makes him sit up right. He sees your face, now etched with anger instead of hurt. Your arms are crossed and your leaning on one foot. This form was you restraining to physically fight him. He stutters because he’s scared and confused.

“I told you weeks ago to listen to _everything_ that I had to say before you react or say your piece. But no! You walked out on me when I wasn’t even halfway done talking, you stupid, stupid idiot!”

Someone walks inside the bathroom just as you’re fuming and they take fire when you scream at them to get the fuck out. Steve stutters again and moves to leave the sink but you point your finger at him aggressively, effectively shutting him up and he stays put.

“I told you that we had to talk to Bucky. Together, just like always. But you left me to do it alone when I _really, really_ needed you to be there with me. I was going to tell him the whole truth but I wanted you there with me—beside me.”

“I—I couldn’t bear to hear you tell him you love him… not after—not after everything that happened between us.” Steve looks down as he wrings his hands together.

“That’s why I wanted you there with me, Steven. Because I wanted to you hear me say it to Bucky. I was going to tell Bucky that I love him—but I’m in love with you.”

Steve’s head shoots up and he sees your face. Tears are running down your cheeks as you wrap your arms around yourself. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water and you just nod slowly at him, confirming that what he heard was correct.

“I—I thought…”

“I thought so, too. But you taught me that I could love somebody who reciprocates it in the same manner and maybe even more. Better. Warmer.”

“I do—I can and I will. I have! I love you beyond anything I have ever loved and I thought I was okay from doing it afar. But after I got the taste of you I couldn’t anymore…”

This time Steve hops off of the sink and envelopes you in his arms. You were a crying mess and so was he. The relief of knowing what both of you had been yearning to speak of and convene to one another floods every part of your being. When you feel that both of you had enough crying in each other’s arms, Steve peppers you with kisses. Innocent at first but quickly becomes heated.

He whispers into your skin that he missed you and you reply into his lips that you missed him more. Suddenly, Steve hoists you onto the counter top and bunches your gown out of the way so he can access you while you fumble with his belt buckle and the button of his trousers.

Hurried movements continue as you free each other out of the confines of bottom clothing. Your panties are slid to the side as Steve gives you one quick, solid thrust with his pants pooling around his ankles. He adjusts your left leg and raises it higher and wider for better access, effectively taking you deeper and leaving him to bottom out with each push of his cock.

You mewl and squirm beneath him as he grunts in each repeated motion. He anchors your leg on top of his shoulder and covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, you gotta be quieter baby. People will hear us if you don’t.” he warns with a smirk, the smug asshole. “Me, personally, I don’t mind them hearing us but I know you like to be their good girl.”

The taunt makes you wetter and the danger of being heard and discovered of being fucked raw inside a bathroom by people you’ve know since childhood makes you clench up.

“Oh god—Steve!” you moan, ecstasy rising to levels you didn’t know you could be in. The way he was pounding you after being without him for weeks was a blessing. You truly did miss him. He thrusts faster, muttering obscenities as he does when both of you get interrupted.

“Oh, my goodness! Steven?!” that familiar maternal voice snaps the lustful haze that shrouded both of you and Steve. Even more so when your name gets called out as well. “Oh, my god, children! I’m—I’m sorry! I’m going! I’m sorry!”

Steve’s mother scrambles to leave the bathroom red faced and clutching her three hundred thousand dollar diamond necklace. But despite the surprise, Steve managed to remain inside you the whole time. You cover your face in embarrassment and laugh nervously.

“Hey, this isn’t the worst position my mom has seen me in.” Steve chuckles and detaches himself from you. He fixes your underwear and your gown and pulls you off the counter before picking his pants off the floor.

“I can’t believe your mom just walked in on us!” you’re pacing in panic, knees wobbly not just from being pegged now. Steve’s still laughing, finding you too adorable. He grabs your face with both his hands and consumes you in a melting kiss to make up for the interruption. But you’re interrupted again by a knock on the door.

“Kids? Sorry to uhh, interrupt but Bucky’s looking for both of you! It’s time for toasts. Please come out after making yourselves decent. I love you both!” Sarah yells out from a half open door, one hand covering her eyes.

“Thanks, ma! We’ll be right out.” Steve answers his mother while keeping his eyes on you. He places one last kiss on your lips before leading you out. “The quicker we go out there, the sooner we get to continue this.”


End file.
